


Reserve Your Ardors

by Wrightsworth



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, No mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, OR IS IT, Omega Jamie, POV Jamie, Pining, Scenting, Unrequited Love, alpha Tyler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrightsworth/pseuds/Wrightsworth
Summary: Jamie was in over his head. He had been out of his depth for months if he was being honest, ever since he picked Seggy up from the airport that first time in the humid Dallas air and his Omega genes decided to make themselves known, and loudly.
Relationships: Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin, Tyson Barrie/Nathan MacKinnon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Reserve Your Ardors

Jamie was in over his head. He had been out of his depth for months if he was being honest, ever since he picked Seggy up from the airport that first time in the humid Dallas air and his Omega genes decided to make themselves known, and loudly.

“Hey, Jamie Benn, right?” Tyler had smiled at him, tired but bright-eyed. His teeth were very white. Under the stale airplane scent, Jamie caught a hint of something like smoke, and felt his skin tighten.

For most of his life, Jamie barely noticed his dynamic. His smell, “oranges and cloves” Jordie had said, wrinkling his nose a bit, was subtle enough to fade into the background, and his build, sturdy, unshakeable, would have been well-suited to an Alpha or particularly plucky Beta. He had presented late, at eighteen, and his regular, quiet heats had barely been anything, a day or two of sweaty fever and a strong craving for apples and campfires. By then he had been so deep in hockey, his coach barely blinked, sending him to the doctor for a suppressant prescription if he wanted it and leaving it at that.

In juniors, there had been all kinds of talk about Omegas in the locker room. Although Alphas made up maybe twenty percent of the population, they gravitated naturally to sports, and hockey was no exception. Jamie had barely noticed the slurs and heat talk; it seemed to blend into the regular chirps and shit talking that came with the sport.

And then he played with Tyson Barrie.

“God, I bet that play made him wet,” someone was laughing, watching old playoffs tape after a long practice. “He looks like a drooler.” It was one of the older boys talking, sweat dripping down his nose, pads still on as he leaned toward the screen. Jamie couldn’t tell which Omega player they were talking about - maybe Jagr. There weren’t many Omega players in the league until recently. It would all have been mostly normal, if not for the sudden stench filling the locker room, like burnt sugar and vinegar.

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up,” Tyson growled. At his tone, Jamie paused what he was doing, tape in hand, and looked up warily.

“Easy Tys,” the one who had been talking said dismissively.

“You keep your mouth shut, knotbrain.” Tyson stood up to his full height. At sixteen he was still obviously babyfaced, skin like milk with big brown eyes and a dorky smile. All of that seemed to vanish as Jamie watched - Tyson’s normally easy expression had hardened with fury, his shoulders straightened, broadening. The vinegar smell was making Colin gag next to him.

“What’s your problem, man?”

Ty threw down his stick as if they were on the ice and he’d just insulted his mom. Jamie tensed, ready to jump in if it became a fistfight.

“You can’t say shit like that. Not ever, and  _ especially  _ not with me and Bennie here.” Jamie startled. He had forgotten, not for the first time, that when someone said ‘Omega,’ they meant him, too.

“Fine,” someone said, but Jamie was looking at Tyson. Something had shifted inside him, like a switch he hadn’t known was there.

Jamie told Tyson about it, months later, when the Omega talk in the locker rooms, and mostly off the ice, too, had melted away. It was during one of Tyson’s heats, painful, five-day ordeals that seemed so much worse than Jamie’s. Everything about being an Omega seemed more difficult for Tyson than Jamie. He even looked more the part, soft and inviting enough that strange Alphas often approached him after games or at the celebrations after, always older, their scents thick and cloying.

People had a different reaction to Jamie’s Omega which was, as his old O teacher used to say, a bit maternal. Friends, acquaintances, sometimes strangers, would sniff at him, the scent glands by his wrists and neck, brush noses against his hair. It was all very platonic, which may have been almost as embarrassing as the alternative since it showed just how bad he was at his dynamic in the first place.

“Dude, you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you when they do that shit,” Tyson said, the day after an older player on the opposing team had bypassed the normal handshake to squeeze the glands on Jamie’s wrists after a game. Jamie hadn’t said anything, too busy flushing red down to his toes.

Tyson was in heat by the next day, and smelled sugary, like lemons and cotton candy. Sweat was making his hair stick to his forehead. Jamie brushed it out of his eyes and Tyson sighed at the touch.

“It doesn’t,” Jamie said, stumbling. “It doesn’t bother me usually. They don’t...they don’t chirp me like you.” As their season wound, inevitably, to a hard-fought finish, the on-ice taunts from other teams gained an edge, the language more graphic and cruel.

Tyson rolled his eyes. Jamie nudged him with a Gatorade and he took a long gulp before answering.

“I mean that, too. You let them forget what you are. They can’t just pretend your dynamic doesn’t exist and then bring it out when it suits them.”

Jamie was quiet, testing the shape of his feelings inside him. He remembered the slightest pangs he felt, listening to the announcers talk about Sidney Crosby and Carey Price, their soothing Omega influence and leadership. He remembered the gentle suggestions after high school that he would be a more appealing mate if he quit hockey, how they all hung on the unspoken  _ you’re not a good enough Omega, anyway _ . And maybe it was a blessing and curse that people did treat him like a nice-smelling Beta, he supposed, rarely including him when they pointed out the often embarrassing fluctuations in each other’s scents, which Betas rarely noticed. Jamie was sometimes forgotten in the room, where Tyson never was. He had always supposed it was their personalities, Tyson’s bright and soft-edged, Jamie’s more muted, more awkward.

He had shrugged then, and a new wave of heat made Tyson whine until Jamie petted his hair, but he remembered Tyson’s words long after. In his early years with the Stars, he was noticed more, people started looking at him with attention, intensity, but he knew it was for his physical playstyle, his leadership, not his dynamic.

And then Tyler Seguin was traded.

That first night, when he invited Tyler over for steaks with him and Jordie, Jamie thought he was going into heat. There was no other explanation for his outrageous scent reaction, or the tightness of his own skin. He had known Tyler was an Alpha in the same, abstract way he noticed his hair was brown, or how he favored timing in a shootout. But having him there, in Jamie’s space, eating Jamie’s food, the scent of Honeycrisp apples and wood smoke starting to seep off of him like cologne, that was something else entirely.

As soon as they were in the enclosed space, Jamie’s mouth flooded with saliva. It happened so fast, he almost choked on it, on the tart apple smell of Seguin, leaning close. The Alpha laughed.

“Yeah, those steaks smell awesome. What is that, garlic butter?” Tyler licked his lips, gaze fixed on Jordie’s cooking, and Jamie swallowed a whimper.

It was like a nightmare, Jamie thought as he struggled to hold himself together. Every dynamics class in high school came rushing back to him. He remembered the descriptions of an Omega’s response to a compatible Alpha - he checked off the boxes one by one: odor cravings, swelling scent glands, the salivary response, and biting instinct. They were symptoms of attraction that most people politely ignored, like locker room boners. And they had never bothered Jamie, until now.

Jamie wanted Tyler to leave, so he could chug Gatorade and forget the thick texture of his own spit, filling his jaw almost too quickly to swallow. Jamie wanted Tyler to stay, to rub his smell on the walls, the couch, the chairs, his skin. Jamie wanted Tyler to leave, so Jamie could jerk off in the privacy of his own room, while the fresh-tart scent lingered in his nose, on his tongue. He wanted to nose into Tyler’s neck and - just the thought made him blush - sink his teeth into the mating glands below his stubbled jaw.

When the Alpha finally left, citing jetlag, Jamie sat at the table, buried his head in his hands, and groaned.

“Yikes, Chubbs,” Jordie said. “I can’t say I have ever smelled  _ that _ on you.”

Jamie groaned again and waited for the floor to swallow him whole. He could imagine how it smelled to Jordie, who had an especially keen Alpha nose, or to Tyler, who Jamie was praying couldn't tell the difference.

“Do you think he noticed?” Jamie asked, already prepping for the blow. When he looked up, Jordie’s eyebrows were high on his forehead, his expression bemused.

“Maybe. If he did, he was being polite about it.” He must have been polite about it, Jamie thought. His smell was leaking everywhere, hardly even oranges and cloves anymore. It had ripened, sharpened, into something like mulled wine and spiced cider and sex. He could feel himself turning bright red; he had never been so obvious in his life.

Eventually, Jordie took pity on him.

“Relax, Chubbs,” he said, ruffling his hair. “It happens to everyone, some scents are just like that. Your body will get used to having a compatible Alpha around and it will go back to normal.” Jamie nodded slowly, allowing himself to be convinced.

It did not go back to normal.

Those first few weeks, Jamie felt unhinged, like he had been having a dream his whole life, and suddenly woke up. It was like being on fire; he was aware of Tyler’s every move in the locker room, on the ice. His senses sharpened and he became more territorial. His checks were harder, passes sharper, and he was playing every game with more wild, primal determination.

Jamie’s scent never mellowed back to its old, sweet citrus. For a while, it was all people wanted to talk about - his mom, the trainers, his teammates, and of course, the media.

“What do you think of the change in Stars Captain Jamie Benn’s scent?” The question was so inappropriate, it took Erik off-guard, and he hesitated.

“Everyone’s scent changes from time to time,” he answered slowly in his characteristically gravelly voice. “Jamie’s having a great season, and maybe this reflects that.”

It was a good answer to a bad question, but the media took that one and ran with it for what felt like months, mentioning, for the first time, that Jamie’s  _ matured Omega scent _ was a good sign for his career. As if he hadn’t been playing his heart out before. As if the years and sweat he’d poured into hockey had nothing on his dynamic.

Jamie thought, occasionally, of Tyson, playing with the Avs. He empathized with the fierceness in his eyes, the sudden, out-of-character venom when it came to Omega slurs. Jamie thought he understood now, or at least understood more.

For all that his dynamic had reared its ugly head, Jamie would have taken it all over again for the hockey they were playing. If the way he and Tyler lit it up on the ice was due to some hormonal trick or dynamic bullshit, he wouldn’t complain. The chemistry was clear, their potential felt limitless, and people were taking notice. The Stars were back on the map. If Jamie’s Omega was sometimes possessive or thirsty, he could push it down. Hockey would always be the priority for him, even over love, or baseball, or the thousand other things he had given up.

Tonight though, tonight was especially bad. It had been a vicious away game against the Sharks, bloody from the get go. Jamie’s shoulder had a deep ache from a particularly brutal cross-check, and Tyler’s cheek bone was scraped from a fight. Jamie could not look away from the glint of red above his stubble. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but whenever Tyler did fight, Jamie had to push down something primitive and animal inside of him and put on a mask of captainly concern. The blood made his Omega  _ roar _ .

“Another round?” Tyler asked the table. Jamie muttered something, he had no idea what, eyes tracking Tyler’s face, the smiling glance he threw Jamie’s way. At the bar, a blonde Omega girl who smelled like peaches was sidling up to Tyler. Jamie felt a sharp elbow in his ribs.

“What?” he snapped at Jordie.

“Maybe cool it on the growling, Chubbs.” As soon as he said it, Jamie realized the low rumble was coming from his chest. He took a couple slow breaths, cooling off, and eventually, they died down. But Jordie was looking at him now with concern. “Are you okay? You smell-”

“Here you go, boys,” Tyler said, sliding back into the booth with a full tray. He set a fancy, small-batch beer in front of Jamie. He took a sip, pleased that Tyler got him something he knew he would like. Before he could help himself, a low purr began deep in Jamie’s chest. He swallowed it down, mortified, but it was too late.

“You like it that much, eh?” Tyler said, smiling so his eyes crinkled. It wasn’t uncommon for an Omega to purr when they were satisfied, but it  _ was  _ unusual for Jamie. He felt flushed, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, and turned in horror to look at Jordie, who, with his keen nose, had come to the same conclusion.

Jamie was going into an early heat.

“Um, I think I’m gonna call it early,” Jamie said, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Eaks made a noise of protest and Tyler frowned from the corner of his eyes.

“Are you sure Chubbs? We just got here.”

Jamie nodded quickly, but apparently not fast enough. Tyler’s nostrils flared, so slightly he wouldn’t have known if he wasn’t looking for it. As Jamie watched, Tyler’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o,’ and he cut a sharp glance toward the rest of the table, then back at Jordie.

A nod passed between the two and Jordie had his game face on, helping tug Jamie out of the booth.

“Hey, cut it out,” Jamie said. Jordie knew he hated it when he pulled the whole Alpha big brother shtick.

“I’m gonna call it a night too, boys,” Tyler said, louder, making a show of yawning and pulling his jacket on. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Someone chirped back at him, but they had already turned the corner and stepped into the crisp January night air.

“I called an Uber,” Jordie said, business-like, checking his phone. He looked piercingly at Jamie, “How early is it?”

Jamie shrugged, as if he didn’t know it down to the day. His biannual heat was slotted for the end of the month - he could usually predict it down to the day, and now it was three weeks before schedule.

“I’ve got time, you don’t need to freak out about it, Darth. You always catch it early.”

Jordie shook his head. “Yeah, but this time you smell-”

He cut himself off as Tyler appeared at his elbow. “Did you get a cab already?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. Just then the Uber pulled up.

It took less than ten minutes to get to the hotel, but it felt much longer since Jamie was doing his best not to breathe at all. Whenever he did, the deep smell of burning pine filled his mouth and throat, overwhelming Jordie’s familiar salty scent.

Finally, finally, they made it. Then, in the hall by Jamie’s room, the Alpha bullshit started up again.

“We can take shifts,” Tyler said, and it was like he was continuing a conversation with Jordie that Jamie couldn’t hear. “If you want to catch some sleep later, I can rotate. How long do they last?”

“Only two days, thank God,” Jordie was shaking his head.

Jamie stopped so fast they almost ran into him.

“I don’t need to be watched over,” he said, indignant. His voice came out quieter than he would have liked, but his eyes must have conveyed how deadly serious he was, since Tyler and Jordie looked a bit sheepish.

“Sorry man,” Tyler said, with a boyish half-smile. Jordie ruffled his hair like they were still kids.

“I know, I know. But I got instincts, too, and you’ve never heated during a road trip.” It was true, he hadn’t. Jamie sighed and decided to take a long shower while he waited for the heat to come on.

By midnight, it ended up being a good thing that they were there, because Jamie couldn’t remember having a heat this bad. He thrashed on the bed, sweating through the sheets, letting out these awful, plaintive noises. It seemed like Tyson’s heats had been: feverish and painful.

For the first few hours, Jamie kept the Alphas locked in the hallways, drank bottled water, and jerked off a few times to take off the edge. In porn, they always made it seem like heats turned Omegas into horny animals, but in Jamie’s experience it was more like an endless hollow feeling, like loneliness, or hunger. He could take sex, or leave it, but the discomfort of the burning fever usually made him want to be cuddled, filled. Touch helped, and he had kept other Omega teammates company, held their hands or stroked their hair, if the loneliness became too much.

Eventually he gave in, yanking open the hotel room door. Tyler fell on his back - he had been sitting against the door from the outside. Jordie was against the opposite wall and looked up from his phone when Jamie opened the door.

He could only imagine what he looked like, hair stuck to his face with sweat, the synthetic hotel blanket wrapped around him like a shawl. He was shaking, just a little.

“Shit,” Tyler said.

“I need - can you just -” Jamie stopped, frustrated.

“Yes,” Tyler said, scrambling to his feet. His fingers skimmed Jamie’s arm and the relief was a shock. “I have Game of Thrones on my phone?”

It was surreal, watching Tyrion talk from Seggy’s tiny, bright phone screen, Jordie in the bed to his left, Tyler in the desk chair rolled right up to the right. Tyler held the screen with one hand resting on Jamie’s stomach, and the contact helped. Every once in a while, he’d pass the phone to Jamie to hold and wet a hand towel to put on Jamie’s forehead.

By the second episode, Jordie was snoring, and loudly _.  _ Tyler looked over at him, waggled his eyebrows at Jamie, and turned back to the wet cloth.

It should have been impossible. Jamie had only had a few awkward experiences where Alpha teammates caught his heat scent, and none of them had been able to hold it together. Best case scenario, they caught the scent, made a face, and avoided him. On some of the more awkward occasions, an Alpha would start following him, sometimes unconsciously, staring unblinkingly until the coach told them to cut it out or leave. “Fucking disgusting knotbrains,” Tyson had called them, though Jamie hadn’t blamed them at the time.

Tyler though, the way he was acting was like Jamie had a  _ cold _ . He would have thought he couldn’t smell him, except every once in a while when he didn’t think Jamie was looking, his gaze would catch on Jamie’s sweaty neck and darken.

“Hey,” Jamie said, cleared his throat. “You’re not bad at this.”

Tyler shrugged and Jamie tried to think any thoughts that were not:  _ yes Alpha campfire pine apples mate. _

“My sister’s an O. She always hates being alone for heats.” He adjusted the cloth and smiled. “Two days is not so bad. You can maybe make the Avs game Tuesday.”

Jamie hummed. Tyler had started idly tracing the tattoo on his arm, like he barely noticed he was doing it. The sensation gave Jamie goosebumps, and the next thing he knew, he was falling asleep.

It turned out he did make it to Colorado to watch the game, but the days before it were so hellish, his shaky legs could barely walk, let alone skate.

“Jamie, we gotta get to the team meet,” Tyler had said the morning after, shaking his shoulder gently. Jamie grabbed at his sleeve, still half asleep, not wanting to be alone. “Hey, it’s okay. You wanna keep the hoodie? Just for smell?”

In his daze, Jamie thought Tyler must have discovered his secret and he should have been humiliated, but he couldn’t bring himself to care if Tyler was leaving his hoodie anyway. He nodded and Tyler stripped it off in one clean move and set it on Jamie’s chest.

“Hold tight, man.”

He buried his nose in the green fabric and took deep, greedy breaths. It smelled green, too, he thought deliriously. Like apples and growing things. He sighed and told himself sternly not to get used to it.

And then he was alone.

Without the company, Jamie’s Omega was nearly inconsolable. The heat sweated out of him like a heavy workout, and he flipped between horniness and depression without warning. By the time the heat trickled out of him, he was in the shower, three fingers in his hole, sobbing through another unsatisfying orgasm.

Eventually, when he was clean and conscious enough, he booked a late flight to Denver. He’d barely landed when Tyson started blowing up his phone.

_ Hey! Haave u made it in yet?? _

_ Bennnnnn _

_ Where r u? _

_ Wanna get food? Landy and I have a place we wanna try _

Can’t, Jamie typed back. Just finished heat, gotta sleep

_ Oh shsit  _ came the fast reply.  _ Sucks :( _

Jamie didn’t know what to say to that. He got a key at the front desk and let himself into his and Jordie’s room. Jordie was out, so Jamie took another shower, shot Lindy an update text, and set out clothes for the next day. As he did, Tyler’s green hoodie spilled out of his bag. It smelled - well. It smelled  _ strong _ . He buried his nose in it and just breathed deeply, feeling the scent of both of them, like Alpha musk and hot apple cider, bourbon, something spicy like cinnamon. And over all of that, overwhelmingly, it smelled like, not just sex, but longing. It was damning. It was irresistible.

After looking at it for a long time, Jamie gave in and put it under his pillow. He’d tell Tyler he lost it. He chugged a complimentary water bottle, crawled under the sheets, and went to sleep.

The game against the Avs was excruciating on so many levels.

First, because Tyler was on  _ fire _ . He destroyed faceoff after faceoff, snuck in an early goal, and got an assist to pull them ahead. He was playing ruthlessly fast, sweat dripping off his nose, his chin, his eyes alight.

Then, it was because they were losing anyway. Things fell apart in the second - they tied up, then Eaks lost the puck twice. The agony was clear on his face, jaw hard, lip curled in disgust. Jamie’s “Keep it together!” from the box was drowned out completely by the jeering home crowd. It came to a head when Eaks finally lost his cool and got a boarding penalty, and then it was a power play for the Avs.

But most of all, it was excruciating that Jamie wasn’t out there with them. He should have been there to keep their heads in the game, to reinforce Lindy’s calls, get Tyler the puck so they had something to work with. Instead, he was stuck watching, weak-kneed with sore glands from a stupid, stupid early heat, watching as Colorado crushed them 5-2.

The mood afterwards was not great, but the dark stormcloud over Jamie’s head definitely made it worse. Tyler shot him a worried look while he was prowling the locker room, and only then did he realize the way Cody was hunched over, shrinking into himself. The hot air went out of Jamie in one huff, and he walked over to put one hand on his shoulder. Eaks flinched, just a bit, gaze on the ground.

“Hey,” Jamie said. He waited until Cody looked at him, and then hit their foreheads together, hard.

“Jeez!” Cody rubbed at his forehead, expression comically betrayed.

“Save it for next time,” Jamie said firmly, and he could feel the rest of the team listening. “We’ll get them next time.”

He was watching Cody’s eyes, so he saw the moment he believed him. “Yeah Chubbs,” he was shaking his head, smiling a bit, clearly exhausted, but no longer quite as torn up. “We’ll get ‘em next time.”

Jamie got the text from Tyson not long after.

_ Hey come out with us _

Spending time with Tys and his celebrating teammates sounded about as much fun as eating glass, but it had been a while, and Tyson had come out with him last time they were in Dallas.

I’m with Darth n Segs, he typed. They were arguing about a dumb tattoo idea one of them had in Tyler’s room.

_ Bring em too _

Jamie sighed and told them he was meeting Tyson.

“Wanna come?”

“Nah,” Jordie yawned so big, his beard brushed his chest. He scratched it. “I’m wiped. Gotta get in some beauty sleep unlike some people.” He shot a wink at Tyler who rolled his eyes.

“Sure, I’ll come.” He pulled on a hoodie, and the association still made Jamie flush a bit, and grabbed his jacket.

The bar Tyson picked out was just a bit too expensive to be seedy.

“Jamie!” Tyson cried when he saw them, flinging an arm around his neck, which he was not tall enough to do well, and dragging him to their booth. “You know Landy and Mac.”

Jamie nodded at Landeskog, probably with more gravity than the situation called for, but the weight of captaincy did that sometimes. Nathan MacKinnon was definitely close to drunk, laughing too loudly. That wasn’t unusual. Tyson’s face when he looked at him though, that was new. He glanced over with such open, unselfconscious affection, Jamie felt like he shouldn’t have seen. He drained his beer so he wouldn’t have to look.

“No one can beat me!” MacKinnon crowed, returning with a handful of darts.

“I’ll take you up on that one,” Tyler said, wiping the froth from his beer with a hoodie sleeve. Jamie looked away quickly, and downed two shots from the tray on the table. When he finished, Tyson’s eyebrows were nearly at his hairline.

“Huh?”

“I mean, I heard about it, but I didn’t really believe them.” Tyson shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “It’s kinda intense.” He tapped his nose with a sly glance.

Jamie felt himself blush, head spinning a bit from the number of drinks in quick succession. “I don’t-”

“S’not a bad thing,” Tyson said, bumping his shoulder. “You actually like him, yeah?”

Jamie glanced over to where the Alphas were playing darts. Someone was losing, loudly, but it didn’t seem to be Tyler. His smile was blinding and his hands were quick. Jamie ached just looking at him. So instead of looking, he knocked back another shot.

By the time they made it back to the hotel, Jamie was weaving, arm slung around Tyler’s shoulder. His limbs felt heavy, but he was happy, everything was glowing, and he was chuckling about something he couldn’t remember.

“What’s so funny, Chubbs?” Tyler said, laughing too. It was contagious. “No, shh! We’ll wake them up.”

Tyler’s shushing face was so funny, Jamie starting chuckling all over again, deep chest laughs that shook them both. Tyler fished out his room key, dragged them through the door and more or less pushed Jamie onto a bed.

“Phew,” he said, taking his hat off, pushing his sweaty hair back, and putting the cap back on. “Holy shit, how much did you drink? You’re gonna be feeling it tomorrow.” Tyler smiled down at him, glittering. Glittery. Jamie blinked - he must be more drunk than he thought.

“Let me grab you a water bottle,” Tyler said, and started to pull away.

Abruptly, Tyler leaving felt like the worst thing that could happen. Desperate, he snagged one of his wrists out of the air and tugged him down. Taken off guard, Tyler fell, partly on the bed, mostly on Jamie’s chest.

“Don’t go.” He nuzzled Tyler’s hair. It smelled so good, crisp and smokey under the sweat. A deep purr started in his chest, but he couldn’t be fucked to care. He felt just so warm, surrounded by that good smell.

“Haha, thanks Benn,” Tyler said. Jamie must have said some of that out loud. Jamie nosed deeper at Tyler’s neck. Tyler stifled a noise, and abruptly the smell got richer, thick like the hoodie Jamie had balled up in his bed back home. It smelled like - like Tyler was turned on, too.

Jamie’s mouth flooded with saliva.

“Tyler,” he said, swallowing, hoping he understood, because it suddenly felt urgent that he understood. Just to make it abundantly clear, Jamie pressed his lips to the skin of Tyler’s neck, so close, and nipped.

“Woah, what-” Tyler started. Jamie nosed at the scent gland by Tyler’s jaw, tart like apples, and without thinking about it, flicked his tongue out to taste.

“Jamie!” Tyler pushed him with hands on his shoulders. It was like getting doused with ice water, Jamie sobered up so fast at the look of horror on Tyler’s face.

He could taste Tyler on his tongue. He had been seconds away from sinking his teeth into the tender gland on his neck.

What had he  _ done _ ?

“Fuck!” Jamie sat up, rubbing at his face. “Seggy, I’m - I’m so sorry. I’ll…” he blinked around the room. It was Tyler’s hotel room, of course. He stumbled to his feet. “I’ll go to Jordie’s room.” He made for the door, clumsy with liquor and shock. He had...he had almost made a claiming mark on Tyler against his will. He was the shit of the earth.

“Jamie, wait-”

“Sorry,” Jamie threw over his shoulder, yanked the door open, and made for his room as fast as a breakaway. Jordie didn’t even stir when he got there, or while he took the longest cold shower of his life. It was there, slouched against the shitty grout, watching rivulets trickle down the drain, that he decided.

If he couldn’t control himself, it was time to go back on suppressants.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick 2-shot ABO roughly set in the 2014 season. Absolutely chock full of inaccuracies. Basically, I just wanted to reverse the trope of Tyler being the omega and somehow it became an entire story about smells. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
> 
> Title from the poem "Smell!":
> 
> Oh strong ridged and deeply hollowed  
> nose of mine! what will you not be smelling?  
> What tactless asses we are, you and I, boney nose,  
> always indiscriminate, always unashamed,  
> and now it is the souring flowers of the bedraggled  
> poplars: a festering pulp on the wet earth  
> beneath them. With what deep thirst  
> we quicken our desires  
> to that rank odor of a passing springtime!  
> Can you not be decent? Can you not reserve your ardors  
> for something less unlovely? What girl will care  
> for us, do you think, if we continue in these ways?  
> Must you taste everything? Must you know everything?  
> Must you have a part in everything?
> 
> – William Carlos Williams


End file.
